by Chris Ord
Aran still held the red book in his hand. He passed it to Freya.
‘This is where they’d sing, worship, pray. It’s a house of the old ways, like the ruins of the abbey on the island. They believed in Christianity. I was told it was born on the island and spread across the mainland. For many years it was everything in the old ways, it shaped the lives and thinking. But it became part of the problem. That’s why it was outlawed by the community. It looks like Father Ridley is still a believer. This is the Christian book. I think everything they believe is in here.’
Freya looked at the bible in Aran’s hands, grimacing as though the book was dirt. Freya shook her head.
‘Have you seen some of the stuff in there? I’ve just seen something about stoning your kids to death. Is that what they did back then?’
Aran grinned.
‘No. At least not for many years. I’m not sure everything in the book is meant to be taken literally. The book’s thousands of years old, things change, but I guess if it’s what you believe. I’m sure the old man will explain. Come on. Oh and Freya.’
‘What?’
Aran’s face turned much harsher, staring into Freya’s eyes as spoke. His voice had lost all of the playfulness and was now full of warning.
‘Keep it shut, will you? These believers are passionate. It’s a huge part of their lives. Remember they’re just words and beliefs. They can’t hurt us, but they’ll mean a lot to Father Ridley and we’re his guests.’
‘Words and beliefs can’t hurt us. You reckon? Our whole life’s been built on empty words and beliefs. Not these ones, but the leader’s. Of course, they’re older and wiser than us, aren’t they, so we’re just meant to trust them. Well, if their words were so clever how did we end up in this mess? They made it, not us. We just have to live with it.’
Aran and Gaia looked at the floor. Neither responded. There was no point. Freya was right. Freya was saying what they had all thought. That was why they were here. They were young and had inherited the mistakes of the past. The future was meant to belong to the young. They would make things right, but everywhere there were thoughts, ideas, rules that held young people back. The leaders told the young what to think and do, trained them, programmed them. Freya knew there was no point in taking her frustrations out on the others. None of this was their fault. Gaia and Aran hoped to build a better future just like Freya, but it had been a long day, and nothing would change through angry words.
Gaia and Aran laid their weapons on the table and moved towards the door. Freya hesitated, but after a warning look from Aran placed her weapons next to theirs. The group entered a narrow passage which led to a large room. The walls were plastered, though the paintwork was old and faded. A couple more crosses hung on the wall, each with the same figure. The centre of the room was dominated by a narrow, wooden table, around which were six chairs with high ornate backs. The table was set with plates, bowls, cups, glasses and cutlery. It was cluttered, but looked unused and neglected. A grimy white tablecloth with a floral pattern covered it, and two bold six pointed silver candlesticks sat on the table. The room was lined with bookcases which were full to bursting. Books of all colours and sizes, mostly hardbacks, littered the shelves. Each one looked tired and worn. The floor was dark wooden boards which echoed the footsteps. In each corner was an armchair, all different shapes and sizes, with white cloths draped across the back of the headrest. A long narrow window stretched high across one of the walls, letting in some light, but the room was dim and dreary. At the far end there was another doorway leading into the kitchen.
Ruth stood by the far side of the table, still clutching the blanket and sucking her thumb. Ridley was not there, but there was a clatter and bustle of activity through the other door. A voice shouted from the room.
‘Please. Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.’
All three laid their rucksacks in a corner and each took a chair. Gaia’s creaked as she sat. Aran and Gaia sat on the near side by the door they had entered. Freya sat alone opposite, so she could see both doorways. They waited in silence, studying the room. Gaia stared at Ruth who was still passive and unresponsive. The child’s eyes had drifted back to the lifeless look of when Gaia first saw her. The fear and panic in the presence of the priest had subsided.
Ridley entered the room with a silver tray. On it was a teapot, a bowl of sugar, some milk and a plate of biscuits. He placed it down on the edge of the table, struggling to find a space.
‘There we are now. Seeing as we have guests and it’s a special occasion I’ve got the biscuits out. We don’t often have biscuits, do we Ruth? Now how does everyone take it?’
The tea was poured, the biscuits shared. Gaia ate a couple. They were soft and tasted stale. Gaia noticed that Freya ate nothing and left her tea. The priest took the seat at the head of the table, Ruth standing by his side. As the old man took his seat the child’s body stiffened and her eyes flared.
‘Go get your sisters, will you Ruth my dear? Bring them through to meet our guests.’
Ruth left the room by the far door, as the others exchanged small talk. The child soon returned with two more girls. Both were dressed similar to Ruth in white, tattered dresses. Both were barefoot. One was older, tall and thin, but still a few years younger than Gaia. The older girl had long, black hair and piercing green eyes that shone like emeralds. She was pretty, but her face looked bitter and troubled. The second girl was between the size and ages of Ruth and the elder girl, with stunning green eyes and dazzling long red hair, identical in colour to Gaia’s. This was the first time Gaia had ever seen someone else with red hair. While Gaia’s hair was shiny and vibrant, this girl’s looked dull and lank. The red-haired girl looked more relaxed than the elder, with a warmth, as though she was pleased to see the visitors. Both girl’s eyes, gorgeous to look at, shared the same cold, lifeless stare as Ruth. All three girls lined up alongside the priest, each in order of height. Ruth nearest to the old man who smiled and addressed the guests.
‘Here we are my pretty things. Now you know Ruth. This is Mary, and the older one is Rebecca. My how they grow up quickly, don’t they? Mary and Rebecca these are our guests, Gaia and, sorry could you remind me of your names again. I’m getting old. The memory is going.’
Ridley leaned forward, a questioning look on his face, staring at Freya and Aran in turn.
‘Freya.’
‘Aran.’
‘Yes, of course. Forgive me. Freya and Aran. Unusual names, but interesting. I like them.’
The old man paused, put his cup to his lips and took a long drink. Some tea ran from his mouth and down the side of his chin. The priest took a napkin from the table, dabbed it and sniffed, his nostrils flaring, a snarl sweeping across his face.
‘I notice you have their eyes, of the community. I assume you’re running from the island. Forgive me if you’re not.’
Gaia cast a glance at Freya, an indication to remain quiet. Freya’s eyes were ablaze, but she bit her lip and let Gaia answer the priest.
‘Yes, we’re from the island. We’re looking for a group that live in the hills. Things weren’t working out for us there so we’re looking for something else, a different way of life. They say things are better there. It’s a chance for a fresh start for us all.’
The priest placed his hands on his chin, his face pensive. He looked around at the three visitors, weighing them up. They were similar, but different. Ridley could see Freya’s guarded body language, and stern expression. She was the one to watch. The suspicious one who lacked trust. The old man knew Freya disliked him.
‘I thought as much. I’ve heard of such groups in the hills. I’ve had a good few people pass through here over the years and you hear these things. Maybe it’s true, perhaps you’ll find what you’re looking for. Be on your guard though. This whole area is wild. It’s filled with those that banished and fled. The community doesn’t take kindly to anyone that is different. Especially those that don’t think like them.’
&
nbsp; Ridley took another drink of tea, finishing the cup, and pouring himself more. He added two sugars, stirred and dipped in a biscuit.
‘How rude of me. Would anyone else like some more tea? Young lady. Freya. I notice you haven’t drank yours. Aren’t you thirsty, my dear?’
Freya stared at the priest, stone faced, silent. A grin threatened to creep from Ridley’s lips. It was there, waiting, but the old man did not want to provoke Freya.
‘You say you lost a friend. I’m sorry to hear that. Lord rest their soul. It’s always heartbreaking when we lose loved ones, but hopefully your friend is at peace now. May I ask what happened?’
Gaia spoke.
‘His name was Yann. We were attacked by rats in the castle at the top of the hill. He didn’t get away in time.’
The priest stood from his chair and leant forward, reaching over and touching Gaia’s hand resting on the table. The old man gripped it and stared at Gaia. His glare was heavy and unsettled her.
‘Grieve my child. It’s good to weep. Be reassured your friend is now in the arms of the Lord. If he’d opened his heart to Jesus and accepted him there’s a place for him with the righteous in eternity in God’s kingdom.’
Freya had been simmering, biting her tongue, trying not to let her anger boil over. Freya loathed Ridley and everything he stood for. She was playing along with the charade for the others, but could see the priest for what he was. The sanctimonious piety and sickening insincerity was choking Freya. She felt sick listening to the priest’s formality and pompous words. Ridley had wrapped himself in a blanket of authority, with a uniform of credibility, but he was a fraud. The collar meant nothing, a symbol of all that had plunged the world into chaos. Where was God in this world? Where was he when Yann needed him? God had stood by while the chosen ones ruined the world, abandoned them all to live like animals. If Ridley’s God existed he was cruel and indifferent, and let people suffer. God had abandoned the world to desolation and despair, and the community had banished God. This was the new world order. Freya’s anger and disdain erupted.
‘Yann didn’t open his heart to your god, or Jesus. He didn’t accept them. We didn’t have time to ask him seeing as your god sat back as our friend had his throat ripped out. You see old man, we kill to survive and sometimes we die as a result. That is the way we live now. It’s the world people like you have given us. We don’t need your god.’
Aran stepped in, eager to snuff Freya’s anger, and undo any damage caused. Aran and Gaia were both thrusting spear like looks at Freya.
‘Sorry, can I apologise for my friend’s outburst. It’s been a traumatic day for us all. We’re all feeling the loss of our friend. Freya apologise to Father Ridley.’
Aran continued to press Freya with piercing looks, waiting as she released her teeth from her lips. Freya put her head down and spat out a sorry. There was a silence, as everyone looked at her. She eased her head upwards, scowled and peered at Aran through the edge of her eyebrows. Aran was furious. Freya had gone too far, but could not care less. Freya knew what she had to do and spoke again. This time in a softer voice.
‘I’m sorry.’
Aran lifted his stare, still frowning, and turned to the old man.
‘I hope you accept all our apologies Father Ridley. We aren’t well versed in your beliefs. They’re not taught in the community. We’ve been taught to mistrust your ideas, programmed to attack them and sometimes the instinct takes over. I know Freya didn’t mean to offend you.’
Ridley smiled, reached forward and offered his hand to Aran who took it and shook. The priest turned to Freya.
‘My dear, there’s no harm done. Believe me, I understand what you’ve been through. I know the community. I know exactly.’
There was a long pause as the priest pondered his next words, wanting to choose with care.
‘I’ve got first hand experience of the community and their ways. Now let’s forget this and say no more about it. We don’t want it to spoil our time together now, do we?’
Ridley held out his hand to Freya, hanging for a moment, waiting for her to accept his token of peace. Freya sat unfazed and defiant. Despite the apology the body language spoke otherwise. Freya still bubbled with anger and was trying to dampen the urge to explode again. Aran and Gaia continued to stare at their friend, but Freya ignored them, looking down at the priest’s outstretched hand. Freya waited, as the old man’s hand began to tremble, not through fear, but the ache in his arm as he waited for a response. Freya reached out and took it, gripping the hand as hard as she could. Freya looked at Ridley, her face blank, all emotion buried deep inside. Her voice was a bland, lifeless whisper.
‘I am truly sorry. No hard feelings.’
Freya and Ridley each let go. The priest smiled and stepped back, clasping his hands together and addressing them all, as though giving a sermon.
‘Why don’t you all get some rest. Those armchairs are comfy, if a little old like me. Me and the girls will prepare you all some dinner. You’re more than welcome to join us. In fact you’re welcome to spend the night. Please stay and rest and see how you feel in the morning. Then you can continue with your journey. Like you said, you’ve had a tough day and I can see that you all need some good food, wine and a decent sleep. You’ll be safe.’
The group were all too tired to question. Freya was on her guard, but this was wrapped in humility after the outburst. Gaia and Aran could see no danger from an old man and a few girls, however strange they may seem. Gaia sensed something. It was a place filled with secrets, but compared to the chaos outside it was a sanctuary. The church was secure and offered a roof to sleep under. That was something they all needed.
Gaia, Aran, and Freya settled down in the armchairs in the corners of the room. Gaia soon drifted off into a restless and troubled sleep, dreaming of Kali, the same dream as before. Gaia was in the windowless room with the sick odour of damp. She was in a chair talking to Kali. The conversation was intense, and Gaia had a strong feeling of fear. There was someone in the corner, hiding in the shadows. Gaia could sense they were there, could feel their presence. Gaia noticed as the light caught the faintest glimpse of their boots. They were the standard issue boots, but there was something familiar about them. It was the distinctive pattern, the battered shape, the wear and tear. Gaia recognised the boots, but could not think who they belonged to. Gaia fought to find where she had seen them, but could not. There was Kali’s face again, large, distorted and pressed into Gaia’s. There was water and Gaia was drowning, gasping for air, as the liquid flooded her lungs. There was a strong arm holding Gaia down as the water was poured into her mouth. Something covered her mouth. There was Kali’s face, and hand, reaching out. There was a feeling of panic, the fear of drowning, a desperate struggle for air. All Gaia could see were the boots, the familiar boots, but still she could not picture the owner, the person in the shadows.
16
Aran and Freya were at the table, the same seats as before. The room had darkened, the little natural light the narrow window provided had gone. The candles on the table were lit casting a faint glow around the room. Gaia stood up, stretched and yawned, and took a seat at the table with the others. Aran gave a warm smile, the pale light of the candles giving his face a much more colourful hue. Aran seemed to be recovering, his spirits lifting with his growing strength. The rest had done him good. Freya played with a fork, looking agitated and unsettled. The sleep had not calmed her troubles or temper. Aran spoke.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘I did thanks, you?’
‘Great.’
Gaia looked at Freya.
‘And you Freya?’
Freya kept twirling the fork in her fingers, stabbing the table. Without looking up she forced a response.
‘I didn’t sleep much. I’ll feel much better when we get out of here.’
Ridley entered the room with a serving bowl. It was heaped with mashed potatoes, steam still gushing from them. He placed the tray in the centre of
the table.
‘Good morning all. Of course I should say good evening. I trust you all slept well?’
Aran and Gaia nodded and thanked the priest. Freya grunted and continued her preoccupations with the cutlery. The three girls followed Ridley into the room, each carrying a serving dish of assorted vegetables. They laid them down on the table. Rebecca stood nearest to Gaia. As the elder girl reached over to lay down the dish Gaia noticed her wrists were scuffed with deep, dark purple and yellow bruises. Rebecca stepped back and pulled her sleeves down, with a nervous glance at Gaia, and look of alarm in her eyes. Gaia looked across at Freya who was staring back, a knowing expression on her face.
Ridley took his seat and the young girls left the room, returning with more food and a jug of wine. Rebecca placed a plate in the centre of the table with a roasted bird on it. Ruth laid a large gravy bowl to the left side of the priest, and Mary the decanter of red wine to his right. All three girls left the room, and Freya spoke.
‘Are the girls not joining us?’
‘No, they ate earlier. They’ll go to their rooms and do some study. They read the Lord’s book each night.’
Freya continued to question the priest.
‘They don’t talk much, do they?’
The priest stood up, took a large knife and fork from the table. He began to carve the bird, responding to Freya as he eased the knife back and forth.
‘They’re quiet girls. They all had troubled lives before they came here. They’re not my own children, though I look after them as if they were.’
Ridley continued to slice layers of flesh from the bird, placing each fresh slice onto a side plate. His face was intent, total concentration, never looking up from his task as he spoke.
‘When they came to me they were lost and alone, deeply damaged. The poor things. Their parents had lived perilous lives. They were desperate for support, for love. That’s what was missing from their lives, love. I offered to take them in and save them. Give them all the love they needed. God’s love.’
